CHAPTER TWO Brandon
CHAPTER TWO
Brandon
“DIVA” — THE KID LAROI, LIL TECCA
Six Years Ago
Ishould’ve said no.
When Grayson asked me to pick up his little sister from the airport, I should’ve made up some excuse.
Said I was in the studio with Tony laying down rhythm for our next track.
Claimed I was sick. Hell, I should’ve told him I had food poisoning from that sketchy ramen place Eric keeps making us go to. Anything but yes.
But I didn’t.
Somewhere between “I guess she’s not really speaking to our mom,” and “Just keep her entertained for a few days,” I’d heard something else. Something that told me Grayson was worried.
About Johanna, about whatever mess their family had going on this week that’s been buried under years of silence… maybe about the fact that she’d said yes to coming out here at all.
So I said I’d go. Because the best guy I know is worried about his sister, and I don’t know how to say no to that. If it had been Rylee, I would’ve wanted Gray to do the same thing for me.
I even made the stupid sign. The one he said I should make if I wanted to have a little fun.
Hurricane Johanna.
Her nickname alone told me this was going to be a ride.
Grayson had warned me she’d probably test my patience with her snarky attitude and make me regret even doing him this favor within five minutes of meeting her. It only took one glimpse of the woman who walked out of LAX to confirm everything he’d said—but not in the way he thought it would.
She looked like trouble. Even in her dark grey set of airport sweats, she radiated confidence with her oversized sunglasses, don’t-fuck-with-me energy, and a jaw that tensed just slightly when she saw me and my sign standing there instead of her brother.
Yeah—her reaction? I won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.
She stomped towards me like she’d been on a mission to ruin someone’s life.
Her black hair had been pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head and her suitcase, which was way too big for her, dragged behind her like it had personally offended her.
She looked exhausted, pissed off, and—unfortunately for me—gorgeous.
She’d been quick to say there isn’t anything interesting to know about her, but I know that’s about the furthest thing from the truth. I could list at least ten different things about her that interest me, and she’d barely even said anything.
Grayson would absolutely lose his damn mind if he knew what seeing her walk towards my car had done to me.
Because she’s his little sister, and the reality is, she’s only twenty.
I’m twenty-six. I play bass in a band that’s trying to claw its way out of the garage and the dive bars and into something with the potential to be real. At the moment, I’m responsible for finding gigs for us to play, and it takes up most of my time and attention.
I have no business corrupting her—I’m too old for that shit, but here I am wanting her. Fantasizing about her—wondering if that bratty mouth of hers would be so bold if it was full of something else.
Fuck.
When I’d asked her if she was going to be a good girl and get in the truck, her response made my palm twitch. I’d wanted nothing more than to bend her over the passenger seat and show her what a good girl looks like, leaving a handprint on her perfect ass.
On the other hand, I couldn’t shake the way her voice had dipped when she said Grayson hadn’t told her he’d be gone. Like it really hurt her, when it seemed like she was untouchable. Like she built up seeing her big brother in her head, and he just let her down without even realizing it.
I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push her. It isn’t my job to take care of her feelings—it can’t be.
Then I watched her eat that fucking cheeseburger. Her lips looked soft. Perfectly glossed. Parted just enough for me to picture her wrapping them around my cock.
Suddenly, it’s the only thing I want to see.
Because watching her lick salt off her fingers?
That’s dangerous.
Am I tempting you, Johanna Harris?
When she’d licked another finger, her eyes briefly caught mine.
What if she licked—
Fuck me.
No, Brandon. Grayson’s. Little. Sister.
I’d driven the rest of the way home in silence. I didn’t want to ruin the chance that she might finally be warming up to me—even if it’s just a degree above freezing.
Being back behind the locked door of my room is giving me the space and clarity I need to decipher what the hell just happened between us.
Johanna Harris is someone I never saw coming.
I really don’t have time for this shit.
My band’s lead singer is in the most toxic relationship I’ve ever seen.
He’s always half way out the door with his wife, Lily, doing whatever the fuck she wants him to do as she’s the lead singer of her own band and she thinks that’s more important than anything we’ve got going on.
More than likely, he’s off somewhere with her right now when he should be here taking care of his sister.
We’re all just trying to make it, but in Lily’s world, it’s all about her, all the time. Grayson doesn’t want to see that side of her—but the rest of us sure as hell do. We’re just waiting for him to wake up so that our band can have a real chance at success.
Then there’s Eric—our lead guitarist who’s got a revolving door of women and a little black book with a list of names a mile long for each city we’ve toured in.
Eric’s the best—a great time, truly. Some of my best memories are from his influence, because in the past I haven’t wanted to come out of my introverted shell.
Eric can make the impossible seem possible—even when the ideas are a little dangerous and a lot stupid.
Sometimes I think he’s just filling the void with all the women he parades around, but I don’t think he’ll ever truly settle down.
I’ve been worried, though, because last time my sister, Rylee, was here, I thought I noticed him watching her a little too closely for my liking.
He lives for the rockstar lifestyle of women, booze, and fame—although we’re still working on the fame part.
The judgment is rich, coming from me, as I’ve just spent the last hour fantasizing about Grayson’s sister—but this is different. Rylee is the human version of sunshine and everything good in the world and Eric would ruin her with one touch. I can’t let that happen.
Finally, there’s Tony. The comedic relief and the glue of the group, and easily the reason that none of us have killed each other yet.
I’ve never laughed more than when I’ve gotten to hang out with Tony.
As the youngest member of our band, he’s the one I’ve had to keep my eye on the most, but he’s also responsible for keeping the music fun for all of us.
It’s easy to get in our heads and lose sight of what’s important—but at the end of the day, it’s more than just a job.
It’s our passion, and Tony reminds me of that every day.
As much as I love the guys and our band, as the oldest, I feel like I’m the dad of the group now. The stress has been creeping in over the past few months as I continue to try to book shows that don’t seem to be gaining us any traction. I’m at my wit's end, and I don’t know what comes next.
I stare at my ceiling fan as it rotates slowly, and wonder what the dark haired girl with the icy blue eyes would feel like in my arms right now. I wonder if she’d make this any easier—but I can’t go there. She’s off-limits, but a man can dream—and that’s what I think about as I drift off to sleep.